Once upon a time there was a beautiful trashy lady called polly will take many many drugs and get fucked up. They'll try to make her go to rehab but she'll say no. She just couldn't do it, she couldn't say no. So to fix all her problems she went to the streets to find drugs. Find drugs and stuff them in her socks so nobody knows there's a monkey. On your own you get very lonely. You need to find ways to comfort yourself and artificial happiness is just so easy to just sucumb to the anger and depression that suffocates you through the night and deprives you of air through the day. All she did was sleep and recover from the night before. This morning the feeling returns drowning her with feelinga dn without thinking she just wanted sex. Or someone to love and need her like she finds herself needing so many others. Valentines approaching didn't fucking help! help me! help her! before we go crazy, crazy like a hooker without crack, crazy like an addict who's lost the monkey off her back to where she wasn't wanted or appreciated. Back with the constant disappointment of not living up to their standards. She was happy here, now. It was the only moment they would have together she thought, for a long time. So she desperately trying still to find that perfect release that perfect escape. Escape the pressure and teh strange looks. Escape the weird fat guy on the corner. Escape everything with one hope, her best friend. Awful sick and tired of the games.